


Phone Sex - Justin's Turn

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><img/> </p><p>Justin follows through on his phone sex lesson - and gets an A+.  You can find Brian's lesson <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/878420">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Sex - Justin's Turn

**Author's Note:**

> Brian claims to have taught Justin everything Justin knows. Alas, we are left to merely imagine the details. This is a story in the [Everything He Knows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/880530) collection of stand-alone stories. The gorgeous banner was made by Urugwaj.
> 
> Dedicated to OrangeTheNewBlue in gratitude for the prompt.

PHONE SEX - JUSTIN'S TURN

I pick up the phone. And then I put it down. Then I pick it up. And then I put it down. Then I pick it up. And then I put it down. Etc. Etc. Etc. On and on. Yada yada.

I’ve been trying to work up the nerve all morning. I’d even drunk a second cup of Brian’s high octane coffee, which, come to think of it, might not have been the best idea. A joint would’ve been a better choice, but I don’t know where Brian keeps his stash of weed, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to roll one. I’d tried once and made a mess. Fortunately, Brian was already stoned and found the doomed enterprise highly amusing.

I pick up the phone.

And then I put it down again.

What am I thinking? Brian is either going to laugh at me or yell at me. But he’d told me to do it, so he’s to blame if I make him spit his bottled water all over his desk.

 _C’mon_ , he’d said. _You can do it. I showed you how. A bright lad like yourself should be able to grasp the concept_.

I _do_ grasp the concept. It’s putting the concept into practice that’s the problem.

Dammit. 

I’d tried it out in front of the mirror earlier as though I was preparing for an oral presentation at school. It hadn’t helped.

 _Hey, Brian_ , I’d purred at my reflection. _I’ve been sitting here all morning thinking about your . . . your cock . . ._

And that had been as far as I got because, to be honest, I’ve never said the word “cock” before. It’s always been “dick.” But somehow “dick” doesn’t sound as sexy as “cock,” and Brian definitely has a “cock,” not a “dick.” My classmates have “dicks.” Not Brian. He has a long, thick beauty of a “cock” – a “cock” so magnificent that it defies a mere mortal’s ability to describe its perfection. It doesn’t get hard; it gets rigid. Press your fingers against the fattest vein, and you can feel his pulse throbbing with every heartbeat. Hold it tight in your fist, and the head turns a gorgeous florid purple. Stroke it, and moisture beads in the slit. Lick it from its hard ridge behind his balls to its tip slimy with pre-come, and it lurches, begging you to swallow it to the root. And when you do, it feels hot against your lips and tastes like sex smells – rich and earthy and so very, very _filthy_.

So, yeah. Bottom line: Brian has a “cock.” The problem is I can’t say the word without cracking up.

I jump out of my skin when the phone rings reminding me why that second mug of coffee was a bad idea. I pick it up.

“Well?”

It’s Brian, and as usual he’s exasperated and impatient.

“Well, what?” I squeak despite knowing exactly what he means.

“Well, are you going to make me come in my briefs or not? I wore a pair made of extra thick cotton that’ll absorb my spunk, so it won’t make a mess of my suit pants. They’re bunchy and hot, and I don’t want to have worn them for nothing.”

I bite my lip to hold back the nervous laughter that’s threatening to escape and ruin everything before it’s even started.

“Uhm, are you . . . is this a good time?”

“Of course, it’s a good time. I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t a good time. Now start talking before Bob and Brad barge through my door with another shitty proposal.”

“Bob, Brad and Brian,” I say. “You guys sound like you’re a barbershop quartet except you aren’t because you’re missing a person. Is there anyone in your office named ‘Buck’?”

“What the hell are you babbling about?”

This time the nervous giggle escapes, and I want to die a thousand – no, make that a million – deaths.

He sighs.

“Need me to kick things off?”

I take a deep breath. If I’m going to do this at all, then I’m going to do it right, doggone it!

“No, I got it,” I say and take another deep breath. “Okay, ready?”

“Do I really need to answer that question?”

“No, it was entirely rhetorical.”

He laughs, and my anxiety decreases a tiny bit. I take yet _another_ deep breath.

“I . . . I’m sitting in that chair. You know, the one we were on when I was feeding you ice cream – and I was thinking about sitting on your lap with your . . . your . . . uhm . . . your . . .”

“My what?” he asks. “My cock?”

“Right, yeah. That. Thanks. Anyway I’m sitting there and your . . . your cock is between my ass cheeks, you know, like a hotdog in a bun?”

“Mmmmm, that’s hot,” he says. “My dick’s all atwitter.”

“Well, I have to get the image right,” I protest. “Otherwise you won’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I get it, Picasso. Go on.”

“And it’s really hard, and I can’t decide if I want to suck it or fuck it.”

“Fuck it.”

“Right. Okay. Sure. No problem. So I rise to my knees so you can hold it steady while I sit down on it. Oh, by the way, I didn’t mention a condom because in my head we’re not using one. I know I probably should imagine a condom, but . . . .”

“Oh my God! This is a _fantasy,_ not a sex ed class!”

“But we always use a condom, which, by the way, I’m really glad about because, well, I have this fear of venereal disease. I saw this picture on Wikipedia once of this guy who had boils all over his . . .”

“I’m hanging up in five seconds if you don't stop talking about herpes.”

“Oh, sorry! Yeah, herpes isn’t very sexy, is it . . . ?”

“Click.”

“No wait! Don’t hang up. I’m going to do this, Brian . . . Brian? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here, but not for much longer.”

“Good, thanks. Uhm, where was I?”

“You were sitting down on my cock, impaling yourself so deep that you can taste my pre-come on the back of your tongue.”

“Right, that’s it. Okay, I’m sitting on your . . . on your cock and you put your hands on my ass and start encouraging me to ride it, so I do. It’s really big, and it hurts a little, but I’m starting to like that. Remember you said the pain was part of it? Well, you’re right. I love the way your . . . your cock opens me up. I want as much of it as possible because it feels so good. I’m really hard, and you’re thrusting upward . . .”

“Fuck,” he says. “There you go. Keep it up.”

“. . . and I’m pushing back down because I want your . . . your cock so much. Oh, I forgot to mention there’s lots of lube. I love lots of lube. It’s all squishy . . . Opps, that’s probably not very sexy, is it?”

“Actually it is,” he says a little breathlessly.

“Okay, great . . . uhm, so there’s a lot of lube so your . . . your cock is really slippery and easy to ride. You’re really turned on, and I think you might come soon . . .”

“It’s a little early for me to come, don’t you think?”

“Brian, this is my fantasy.”

He laughs. “Go on.”

“Your chest is getting all pink. It’s like your whole body is blushing, and it’s so hot because I know it’s me that’s making it happen. I lean forward and kiss you. Your tongue fills my mouth and tastes like ice cream. I can’t get enough of it. You taste so good. Your tongue _always_ tastes good, which is pretty surprising actually given how much you smoke . . .”

“Wow.”

“Sorry, anyway, we’re kissing, and you’re fucking me. It feels so good that I know I’m going to come without having to jerk off. I know that’s possible because you’ve made yourself come without jerking off, which is really hot by the way. Your . . . your cock gets really, really hard, and I love the way you thrust like you’re inside me and make your . . . your cock bounce against your stomach. It’s really _really_ hot. You come really hard, by the way. How can you always have so much come given you come, like, a hundred times a day? I’m super jealous. Is there a trick you can teach me, like, I don’t know, eating a lot of yogurt or something?”

Silence. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. I’m so nervous that I’m not hard, which is probably not conducive to good phone sex. Time to think of something really, truly _crazy_ hot.

“I’m going to switch gears now, okay?” I say and don’t wait for a reply – assuming I’d even get one. “So we’re on the floor now, and you’re on your knees with your front resting on the couch. I get a couple pillows because the floor’s really hard, and I don’t want our knees to start hurting. After that I get behind you and sit down so my face is level with your ass. I spread you open and then start licking you like you do to me . . .”

“Licking what? Say it.”

“Well, you know. I’m licking your sphincter . . .”

“Wrong word. My ass is not part of an anatomy textbook. My _asshole_ , you’re licking my asshole. Go on.”

“Okay, I’m licking your asshole and trying to get my tongue inside. You’re really tight, but I keep trying because . . . because . . .”

“Because why? You want to taste me?”

“Yeah, I do. I really _really_ do, which is why I wish you’d let me do this in real life. It’s really hot, and every time I imagine it, I almost come in my pants.”

“Are you finally hard?”

Huh? How does he know I wasn’t? He’s like sex clairvoyant or something.

“Yeah, I’m hard. I always get hard when I think about rimming you. I want to make you squirm like you make me. I’m still trying to get my tongue inside you, and finally you open up a little bit. I can tell it feels really good because you make that gorgeous sound you make. You’re thrusting against the couch, so all I have to do is stay still while you fuck yourself on my tongue . . .”

“Put your finger in,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

Yay!! It’s working! I’m turning him on! Yay! Go me!

“Did you put your finger in?”

“Yeah, I push it into you. It slides right in because of all the spit and you’re open. I start pulling it out and pushing it back in really slowly, which makes you make that sound again. When I find that spot that makes your whole body shudder, I press against it a few times until I can tell that you can’t take it anymore and need to come. I pull my finger out and you move to sit on the couch and spread your legs so I can get between them. You start jerking off while I suck on your balls, which is hard because they’re pretty tight up against your body. I lick between them, and press my tongue as firmly as I can, so your balls separate as far as they can. It’s super hot because the skin is so tight. You beg me to put one in my mouth, so I do and then the other one, rolling each around with my tongue. The whole time you’re jerking off with just the head of your . . . your cock in your hand, letting it slide in and out of your fist. You’re really close to shooting your load. I pull back so I can cup your balls in one hand and stick a finger in your ass with my other . . .”

He groans and murmurs “oh, God, fuck,” several times under his breath.

I’m elated! I’m going to get him off! It’s going to happen! I can’t believe it!

“I need to fuck you,” he says. There’s urgency in his voice. “Christ, Justin, I need to fuck you.”

I go a little lightheaded for a moment because HOLY SHIT!

“Okay. We stand up and go to the arm of the couch so I can bend over it. You move behind me and shove your cock . . .”

Holy shit! I said it!

“. . . in my ass really hard and then start thrusting really fast.”

“What does it feel like? What does it feel like with my cock inside you?”

“It feels . . . God, it’s hard to describe. It feels like it’s both too much and not enough. It feels like I can’t possibly come hard enough to make my need for your cock go away. It makes me feel insatiable, but at the same time, it hurts a little bit. Your cock is really big, and it feels like I can’t take it all . . .”

“. . . but you do. You take everything I give you and more . . .”

“It feels like my balls are going to explode, but I don’t want to come yet. I want you to fuck me forever. I want you to fuck me till I pass out . . . oh _fuck!_ . . . Brian, I can’t take this anymore . . .”

“Make yourself come,” he groans. “I want to hear you come from my cock inside you.”

That’s all the permission I need. I balance the phone on my shoulder with my chin and reach down to open my fly. My fingers are fumbling, so it seems to take forever, but finally my dick is free and I’m pumping it like there’s no tomorrow. I can’t talk any longer, but I make sure Brian can hear me making myself come. I say his name over and over, and just the sound of it drives me closer toward release. When I finally come, all I can do is choke out a whimper, and when it’s over, I see spots dance before my eyes. Just a second later I hear Brian grunt three times and then let out a long, pained-sounding moan. He just came. I know he did. There’s no way you can fake sounds like that.

“Holy shit,” he says when he catches his breath. “I just creamed my pants, Sunshine. There’s so much come, I’m not sure my briefs can handle it after all. Good job. Not bad for your first attempt.”

I close my eyes as my head lulls against the back of the chair. I’d just felt my dick start to swell again. Just the mere thought of Brian rubbing himself to orgasm through his pants is making me hard. I’m going to be jerking off to the image for the rest of the day!

Brian chuckles. He must’ve read my mind again.

“Leave your dick alone,” he says. “I’m rescheduling my meeting with Bob and Brad and coming home to fuck your brains out. I want to walk through the door and find you already naked and in bed on your elbows and knees with your ass in the air. I don’t want to have to do anything more than push my pants down. Got it?”

I grin. “Got it.”

And I definitely do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still make myself come while the memory of our conversation is still fresh and running like a repeating cassette tape in my head.

Thank God, I’m eighteen with a recovery time of less than a nanosecond.

 


End file.
